woke up this morning to a blood red sky
by dylanobriens
Summary: Tessa closes the book, places it back on the bedside table, and falls asleep wishing she wasn't Lucie Manette. / for Alice!


**A/N: **thanks to cassidy (our dancing days) for editing this. :) this is for alice (underthelane) as a part of thegift-giving extravaganza! song title is from 'all i need' by mat kearney. i don't own the infernal devices, the mortal instruments, a tale of two cities, or anything else. the paragraph in italics is cassandra clare's.

* * *

**woke this morning to a blood red sky**

The 20th Century is not kind to strangers. Tessa Carstairs feels a calling in her bones — a siren song telling her to come home.

1878.

It seems like a world away.

(It is.)

But she carries on; tells herself that she'll find a purpose one day.

She takes up work in sewing shop. She doesn't need to, but she does anyway. It's nice to feel needed. She talks to Magnus sometimes; he tells her great tales of adventures in foreign countries.

(She misses London.)

She watches the world fight two wars, hears stories of valiant soldiers who risk their lives to mould a better world.

It reminds her of two brothers who shared more than blood and how they'd given up everything for each other. Even her.

She clutches at the ring dangling from the chain around her neck and bows her head. This world will not see her cry again.

Yet it does, because, as always, these memories are too strong to push back.

She remembers Jem on their wedding day, him in his white suit and her in her gold dress. She remembers him saying 'I love you', his silver eyes shining. She had said it back, looking over his shoulder to the best man.

She loved them both. She really did. They loved each other more.

The first month and a half of being Mrs. Carstairs went surprisingly well. It was painful, but that was unavoidable. Then, somehow — and to this day, Tessa still doesn't know — Jem found out about what she and Will shared and —

He couldn't look at her, wouldn't touch her. When she told him she loved him, he cringed. After two days, he started sleeping in his old room again.

Two months later, Sophie went to change the sheets in his room and found him ice cold.

And that had been the end of that.

* * *

After the funeral (which she hadn't been invited to), she packed everything she owned (not much) and left the Institute. She paused for a moment at the gate, and ran her eyes over the old church.

Her mind might have been playing tricks on her, but she thought she saw a face in a window up in the tower.

She turned down the street and —

(Guess what? She looked back.)

* * *

In 1970, she meets a young boy with a crooked smile and dark brown eyes. He introduces himself as Robert Lightwood, and says he knows who she is.

He's from Idris, he says, and the tales of her bravery aren't forgotten. She blanches, but says _thank you. _He nods, takes a bite from his apple, and runs back down the street.

She doesn't recover from that easily — she'd long ago separated herself from the Shadowhunter world, barring Magnus.

In fact, she's not adjusting to anything well. She's wearing _pants_ and it's a little too restricting on her legs.

She should be used to change by now.

* * *

Tessa can't count the times she's been steps away from boarding a flight, her ticket reading _London, England._

One time she does.

Flying itself is a terrifying experience for her; the last time she crossed this ocean, it was by boat.

(What was waiting for her on the other side hadn't been pleasant, either.)

When the plane lands, Tessa's shaken to her bones and barely holding back her tears.

She counts it as a victory.

Seeing London is more painful than she expected. She's not blind to the advances of this century, but she'd be lying if she wasn't half-expecting (half-hoping) that London would be the same.

The same city, the same time, the same Institute.

Even though she'd promised herself she wouldn't, she visits the Institute. She requests entrance at the gate and is let in with a gracious, "_Welcome__," _after it's decided that she's not a threat.

The Head of the Institute comes down to meet her, introduces herself as Alice Branwell — Tessa nearly chokes, but really, it wasn't that unexpected — and nearly demands Tessa stay for dinner.

It's time for dinner, anyway, Alice had insisted.

After dinner — Alice had cooked it herself, said it'd only be them and that the others would be around later and she could meet them then — Alice took Tessa for a tour of the Institute. Tessa was beginning to wonder if Alice knew who she was, but then they reach the hall that her and Jem's (and _her and Jem's_) rooms had been and she can't help but asking, "Why?"

Alice Branwell looks at her — _really _looks at her, as if she can see straight into Tessa's mind, her _soul, _which even Tessa is afraid to picture — and produces a key from her pocket. It is an old key, one Tessa is far from a stranger to, and it fits right into the lock of Jem's old room.

Tessa doesn't want to go in there. Not where Jem had — died. But most of all, not where Jem had _lived._

She follows Alice in, anyway.

It's as if nothing has changed and everything has changed all at once. The sheets on the bed are the same, but Tessa can tell that it hasn't been used as a bed since Jem. A bed for sobbing on, perhaps, when she clutched at the sheets and held her head to the pillow, before they dragged her kicking and screaming away from the room and away from the bed sheets and away from _Jem._

Now, boxes are stacked on top of it, and there is a thick coating of dust on the pillows. _His _pillows.

Jem's cello is in its stand by the window, polished to shine in the moonlight. Tessa can imagine someone stroking each of the strings carefully, caressing the wood, never daring to make a sound on the instrument that did - _still does - _belong to a dead man. Someone has been taking care of it.

Tessa walks over to it and slowly runs her hand across the dark wood.

"Who's been taking care of this?" she asks, not looking at Alice.

"I have, Mrs. Carstairs," Alice replies hesitantly. "It's rightfully yours, I believe, so if you wish to take it with you…"

"No. It belongs here." Tessa turns to look at the woman, who nods. "What are those boxes in here for?"

"These are all the files from the case with Mortmain, documented to every requirement by the Clave."

Tessa nods, itching to read those files, but she knows, _she knows too well_, and doesn't want to be reminded.

"Would you mind if I —?" Tessa stops herself, unable finish the question.

She doesn't need to, because Alice nods sympathetically and grips the other key on the ring. Tessa lets her feet take her there without thinking. Alice unlocks the door but doesn't go in. "You can stay here for tonight and meet the others in the morning."

Tessa nods, thanks Alice, and shuts the door.

It's not Will's room. It may be in the same place, the sheets may be the same, and the shelves may still hold the same books, but — it's not Will's room. Clothes and half-eaten pastries aren't littered everywhere, and there isn't a tipping stack of books on the bedside table. Just one.

_A Tale of Two Cities_. Of course. She wipes the dust off the cover and falls back onto the bed, her head hitting the pillow (for not the first time).

She flips the book open and is going to read it, simply for nostalgia's sake, but she catches neat script on the inside cover. Will's handwriting. Most of it is faded by now, but there are some sentences still bold, as if he had pressed down harder when they were written.

_Tess, Tess, Tessa . . . but when you touch me that is what it is like: as if my heart is wringing in my chest and the sound shivers down my spine and splinters my bones with joy... When I read it for the second time, with an open mind and heart, I felt the most complete despair and envy for Sydney Carton. Yes, Sydney, for even if he had no hope that the women he loved would love him, at least he could tell her of his love. At least he could do something to prove his passion, even if that thing was to die... You are not the last dream of my soul. You are the first dream, the only dream I ever was unable to stop myself from dreaming... With hope at last, William Herondale._

Tessa closes the book, places it back on the bedside table, and falls asleep wishing she wasn't Lucie Manette.

* * *

When she returns to New York, she cuts her hair, changes her name back to 'Gray', and meets Magnus for lunch.

"Miss Gray, how lovely it is to see you again," he says, kissing her cheek before sitting down.

She doesn't blush, as she would have, once. The years have hardened her, toughened her skin and changed it, just as the world has changed, but they've also made her wise.

They sit and talk for a while, mostly about nothing, but then Magnus leans in and tells her, "There's something bad brewing in Idris."

"Idris?" Tessa says. "But that's impossible, the Shadowhunters would —"

"It _is _the Shadowhunters, Tessa."

"Oh."

They don't say much more and finish their food in silence.

* * *

Tessa briefly considers having new identification papers made and enrolling in a local high school, get a good education and a better job, but she doesn't.

She hears about this group of people women known as the Iron Sisters. She knows of their male counterpart, the Silent Brothers, unfortunately, so she asks Magnus to do some research.

They meet for lunch again, and he tells her what he's found.

"Basically, they're the female answer to the Silent Brothers. But you knew that already, I presume. They're the only ones who know how to mould amadas, so they're in charge of making the Shadowhunter weapons. I've heard that they only speak to female Shadowhunters, but we never did solve that issue with you, did we? So, perhaps. It's probably worth the journey, if you really want it."

"The journey?"

"They live in the Adament Citadel, and it's quite a trek."

Tessa swallows the rest of her tea and nods.

A week later, when she arrives at the Adament Citadel, and it's not what she was expecting. Still, she enters, and doesn't see anything. There's a mist clouding her vision, so she jumps when she hears a voice say, "Why did you come here? What is your name and purpose?"

Her heart is beating faster now, a pounding of drums both quiet and deafening in the silence of the room. She doesn't quite know what she's afraid of. "My name is Tessa Gray, and I wish to join you, Sisters."

She hears murmuring — more people have arrived out of thin air.

"_Sisters, this ridiculous; no such human may walk in here without due cause __and _ask _to join us!_"

"_Well, __Dahlia has not yet returned to us__..."_

"_Dahlia _will _be back!_"

Tessa averts her eyes and tries to block out their conversation. It feels too personal for her, their whispering not meant for her ears, just as their faces are not meant for her eyes.

"_And what name does she go by__, Cleophas?_"

"_She says her name is Tessa Gray. She smells of a warlock._"

"_But look at her, Cleophas; __even you can taste the__ Shadowhunter blood._"

"_Impossible!_"

"_But it is so. What is the vote?_"

After a few more minutes of mumbling, one of the Sisters coughs to get Tessa's attention.

"What have you decided, Sisters?"

The Iron Sister — Cleophas — walks up to Tessa. "You are fortunate that we have an opening in our ranks. It will not be easy, and the amadas does not forget. Are you certain your choice has been made, _Tessa Gray_?"

"I am."

"Then, Tessa Gray, welcome to the Iron Sisters."

* * *

Months later — she's barely mastered the art of moulding a witchlight, but she's been honing her sorcery more and more in her solitude and with the book Magnus leant to her — Magnus calls on her again.

"If I leave, they won't allow me to return," Tessa says.

"I wouldn't be asking you this if I didn't need to, Tessa, you know that."

Tessa sighs and looks around the place she's been learning to call home. "And you trust this woman?"

"I do."

"Fine, I'll do it. Allow me some time to pack up my belongings."

When she meets Jocelyn Fairchild, she's shocked by how strong she is. Magnus had described her as desperate for help, and with child.

"What's she here for?" she demands of Magnus, pointing her finger at Tessa.

"I told you, Jocelyn, I require her assistance in the rituals."

Jocelyn eyes her for a full minute before turning her back to Tessa, directing her attention to Magnus. "Clary's through here."

They go through a door, unlocked quickly with Jocelyn's steel — Tessa has a feeling that is the only thing with a mere chance of opening the door — and step through. In the room, there is a baby sleeping peacefully in a makeshift crib. Her skin is milky white and she has a small shock of bright red hair on her head.

"Tessa, this is Clary."

Tessa nods, and she and Magnus proceed to place the protection charms on the baby Clary.

As they're leaving, Magnus stops her. "Where will you go?"

She shrugs and says, "I'd like to see the world. I feel I have been away for too long."

* * *

Tessa visits New York from time to time and talks with Jocelyn — she likes to check on Clary and make sure she's still safe.

One time she visits, she can't find Jocelyn, so she tracks Clary and sees her with a boy. A Shadowhunter, she can tell.

She watches them closer, and —

He looks exactly like Will.

Not literally, but she's older now. She's not 16 anymore, and she can feel it in her _bones._

She finds herself at Magnus' flat, banging on his door. When he opens it in just pajama bottoms and cartoon slippers, she doesn't wait for a greeting. She barges past him into the flat and turns to face him. "You _know, _don't you?"

"What do I know?"

"The Wayland boy, the one that Clary's smitten with — you _know._"

"I — yes, but it's not my place to tell, and it's definitely not yours. And honestly, there are bigger problems to worry about right now."

"Like?"

"Finding Jocelyn, defeating her husband, those things."

"Right. Of course. I still think you should tell him."

_"_It's not your decision, Tessa."

* * *

The next time Tessa sees Magnus, it's on the outskirts of a celebration.

She catches a glimpse of Clary and with her, Jace. She doesn't think she's ever seen two people more fit for each other.

Magnus follows her gaze. "You were right; I should have told them."


End file.
